


Fleeting Devotion

by ginafics



Series: Hunger Games Yuwin [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Heavy Angst, M/M, Sad Ending, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 08:57:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18049478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginafics/pseuds/ginafics
Summary: Yuta, the Tribute from District 2.He’s strong, ruthless and ready to kill. However, when he gets to the Capitol and meets the other tributes, he finds his one weakness.A pretty, shy but amazingly fast boy from district nine, Sicheng





	Fleeting Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softyjseo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softyjseo/gifts).



> READ THIS CAREFULLY!!
> 
> There's a lot of trigger warnings in this story, and that include: suicide attempt, suicide, the fleeting romantization of suicide attempts, DEATHS (there are a lot of death, including the major characters), violence, blood, gruesome killing attempt, dubious morale
> 
> If you're not capable of reading any of those, please i suggest you to skip this story. I made this in the light of me wanting to create an nct hunger games universe fic, and as how it is hunger games includes any dark theme that i have mentioned above. your mental health is more important than my story.
> 
> if you're okay with any of those then i have to warned you that this is unbeta-ed and english is not my first language, so if you want to proceed pls don't mind some grammatical error.
> 
> this idea was first brought by me and @softyjseo on twitter, i realized that i want to put it here. danibear, i hope you like this.
> 
> above all else, i hope you enjoy this. (i am sorry in advance)

_Nakamoto Yuta._

There’s a loud cheers rushing through his ears. On the third row of the oldest sons of District 2, every single person on Yuta’s peripheral is cheering. It’s awfully deafening —sickening. Still, Yuta slaps the most heart winning smile to his face —an easy task, he had been trained for this ever since he turned 12 anyway. If Yuta has to be honest, he’s not even a little bit surprised. It’s his last chance to get reaped, the games have been boring for these past few years, and he’s the son of the major of the biggest District in Panem. Everyone with a brain can do the math. He locks gaze with the man sitting on the comfy chair, right up on the stage. There’s no ounce of pity or regret within the brown orbs Yuta has known for his whole short life —there’s only pride and glee within his father’s posture. Yuta wants to vomit.

“Well, Mr. Nakamoto, do come to the stage and take your rightful throne!” The overly cheerful Escort says to the audience. Yuta takes his steps to reach the stage, the beautiful smile is still intact on his face, his hands reaching for the Escort’s outstretched helping hand, his brain omitting the fact that no one is following the rules to ask for a volunteer. Everything is staged to put him in the damn arena anyway. His rightful throne, they said; Yuta might laugh. Just call it a casket waiting list and go. Yuta stands on the big stage, listening to the cheers being sent his ways —no mourn or loss on sight even though he might just get killed in a few days, taunting the two big cameras on the back to fully capture his face. A perfect picture of the immaculate boy who has been trained for his entire life to win, delicately beautiful in every sharp edges and fiercely strong even in the softest slope.

He has one responsibility and that is to win. Well, or at the very least, try to make this year’s Hunger Games exciting enough.

His life bid for a simple TV show’s rating. He rather dies if he has a choice in this.

* * *

 

He waits. He waits for one hour.

One hour in the grandeur looking room, with soft golden cushion and table made off glass. A bouquet of fresh Gerbera, perfectly arranged in the middle of the table within a glass vase, just as clean and neat as the rest of the room. Yuta wonders if the room has ever been used except for this day of the year.

He waits.

No one comes.

No one sheds any tear for the boy whose life is reduced into numbered days.

* * *

 

When Yuta aboards the train to the Capitol, he met the other Tribute from Two. A small deadly girl with catlike eyes and long sleek black hair he saw once or twice during his training days. Yuta doesn’t offer her any greeting. A simple announcement that Yuta is not interested in anything she has to offer, not even an alliance. And so they separate ways.

“I see you’ve made up your minds about the Careers issues.” a deep voice greets him all of the sudden. When Yuta turns around, he is met with a very tall boy with a kind face. Yuta knows that the person in front of him is young, most probably at the same age as him, but the lines that mare his face might fool Yuta into thinking that the boy is on his mid twenties by now. No one comes out of the arena unscathed, Yuta has to remind himself. There, right in front of him, stood Seo Youngho, District 2’s youngest Victor who won at the age of 13.

“I see you’ve changed your mind about never mentoring any of the Tributes.” Yuta says instead of responding to Youngho’s statement.

Youngho merely shrugs, “It’s you.” Yuta lets out a smile at that, a small genuine smile, before striding over to where Youngho is standing, asking a silent permission to touch other guy. Youngho caves and envelops Yuta in a tight embrace —the first after so many years.

“How are you?” Yuta whispers, as if no one should know about what they’re talking about, no one should be privy to Youngho’s answer.

“Breathing.”

* * *

 

When Yuta finally arrives at the Capitol, Youngho leads him straight to a small room where their Stylist is supposed to be. Once the door is closed, Yuta is met with a small man. His hair is silver and there are so many piercings on his ears, but besides the inhumane beauty and the glittery green eyeliner, Yuta can’t pinpoint anything else to label him as a Capitol citizen. Perhaps he is not. The silver haired guy smiles after a few silent moments.

“Hi, I’m Ten. Do you like snakes?”

* * *

 

The Tribute Parade is everything that Ten says it would be. An overrated fashion shows. Ten had asked Yuta to smile for the entire event, and smile he did. He had came back with the chariot full of flowers and a bunch of people — _District 1, District 4, District 3—_ asking for his hands in alliance. Youngho rejects all of them. Yuta finds it sickening, why would you even form an alliance when everyone knows you’re going to have to kill everybody anyway. The arena is not the place to make friends. Yuta shakes himself out of his reverie, grounding himself to the room he’s in right now. The training session was a place to learn, Youngho had said this morning. He was instructed to learn as much as he can, to cover his weaknesses —not that he has many, before he can touch the weapons. The weapons are reserved to the last day only, simply to familiarize himself with the feel of having them in his hands. Yuta has decided to trust Youngho’s judgement before they even arrived at the Capitol.

This year’s tributes are nothing new. The pattern repeats every year. Those who come from the richer districts look like they’re going to kill everyone else in seconds, and those from the poorer districts are simply expendable. They keep begging for the show to be less boring, for new underdogs to rise up, for the unexpected to happen. Yuta can only scoff, for how can the overlooked become strong enough to kill people if they even struggle to feed themselves daily. Forget lifting a weapon, Yuta would be surprise to see any of these malnourished kids can run fast enough to escape their killer.

Prey and predator, this is what they have been reduced into.

The sudden movement on his right catches his attention, a simple blur of pinkish blond and the Tributes’ black and blue uniform. Yuta doesn’t know what makes him do it, but there’s an urge within him to search for the source of the movement, eyes finally zooming in on the running boy who is already far away from him. _Fast._ There’s a big number on his back, on everyone's —Yuta thinks it’s a simple metaphor for a shooting target. Nine, the boy comes from District 9. Yuta doesn’t know why but he can’t wipe the perfect picture of the strawberry blond locks off his mind for the rest of the day.

The next time he comes into the training floor, he can’t help but to search for the same boy again. It wasn’t a hard task to begin with, his hair color stands out in the crowd of people with black or brown locks. He has to change it back to black if he doesn’t want to get killed on the first day, Yuta finds himself thinking. The boy is oddly — _beautiful._ He doesn’t look as if he comes from the poorer districts. Sure, he is thin, but he doesn’t look weak. He is tall, and lean, and above all he’s agile. There’s a fire behind those brown orbs, a will to fight. Yuta thinks the boy looks radiant, especially when his face is lightened with a smile like that —shy, bashful, but there’s a satisfied smug in the corner of hip lips when one of the trainers praises his handiwork with the trap.

_Shit._

* * *

 

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Youngho explodes when Yuta decides to tell him about how enamored he is with the tribute from Nine. Yuta shrugs. “Nakamoto Yuta, this is no place for feelings!”

“Don’t worry, Youngho, it’s just a crush. I’ll get over it soon.” There’s a pity in Youngho’s eyes. Yuta hates it.

“This place is not build for you to get over anything, Yuta, I wish you can see that.”

“Stop looking at me like I’m a dead man!” he finally snaps after a few moments. The pity doesn’t go anywhere.

“You already are.’”

* * *

 

People said don’t put a name over a stray animal you find, you’ll get attached, Yuta understands now.

Dong Sicheng who prefers to be called Winwin.

Dong Sicheng who volunteered because there’s no way he’d let a 12 years old fight an unfair battle that only leads to doom.

Dong Sicheng who scored an impressive 10 on the Tribute’s assessment.

Dong Sicheng who looks shy and bashful as he answers every single questions thrown his way with ease.

Dong Sicheng who looks lovely in green and is ready to steal every single money from the audience with his pretty smile and pixie like face.

Dong Sicheng who has unknowingly stolen the heart of a hopeless boy who doesn’t have anything to go back to.

This is no place to have feelings.

* * *

 

“I’ll do my best to help you and the boy. I’m not promising you anything after you’re dead.” Youngho has told him the moment Yuta has to go with the chopper to wherever the Arena is. Yuta smiles genuinely, if that is the best he can pull out of Youngho then he’ll accept it. Sicheng is safe if only he’s alive. He hugs the taller a goodbye. There’s a lament of regret swirling in his head for the time Yuta let them be separated for years.

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” the arms that hold his middle tighten considerably.

“Don’t apologize. Find water source, don’t dive into the bloodbath, survive. Don’t die, Nayuta.”

* * *

 

The Capitol knows Yuta as the charming 18 year old boy from Two. The major’s son who comes to the game to snatch victory. A simple story of a boy who wants to serve his District the glory of winning the most elite games ever made.

Yuta delivers.

Yuta delivers in the form of spears piercing through the chest of his nearest enemies.

Yuta delivers with knives embedded deeply in the nearest head of a 15 years old, eyes acting like bullseye.

Yuta delivers with _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven_ canons booming for himself within the first ten minutes of the games.

Yuta delivers with puddles of blood smeared upon the green grass of the meadow where the Cornucopia is located.

Yuta is from Two. He has trained for 6 long years to do this kind of shit. He knows when to turn off his conscience because none is needed in a place like this. He is the top scorer in his class, in the level too advance that none of the Careers dare to approach the Cornucopia while he’s busy stacking his knives. Yuta is fast, swift, ruthless. He kills with efficiency, with an aim to kill not to enjoy. He is not a charming person —a simple machine made to murder, to survive.

He shoves his collected stuffs in his backpack and walks south to where he believes there should be a source of water for him. His plan is simple —find water, and then find Sicheng. Anything besides those two is disposable.

* * *

 

Yuta sighs in relief when he finds Sicheng right in the afternoon, a few hours before the sun should set. So far there have been 13 canons —Yuta prays to the god he doesn’t even believe in after each one that none of those belong to Sicheng. _Don’t go down before I find you._

Yuta decides to follow Sicheng for the rest of the day —perhaps for the rest of the games, walking quietly a few metres behind the now brown haired boy, hiding behind trees if said boy ever decided to look behind him. Yuta feels like a creep. But at least he tries to be useful, acting as the second eyes for Sicheng who watches his back, seldomly climbs up the trees to detect nearing danger. Sicheng, Yuta thinks, is a very resourceful guy. He doesn’t hesitate when he picks random berries off the bushes then pops them into his mouth, he somehow found himself a compass and is certain with the direction to which he’s walking, as if he knows where it would lead him. Right before the sun sets, he has found himself a tall enough tree to rest comfortably while being invisible to the rest of the world —the designated world. Yuta is sure everyone out there is enjoying the show behind TV monitors. He decides to rest on the ground, it provides him a more stable ground if someone dares to approach and attack.

The night is peaceful. The announcement for the fallen tributes is still hours away. The air that surrounds them feels nice, full of cool breeze instead of awfully chilling. Yuta closes his eyes once he deems everything is safe.

“Aren’t you hungry from following me all day, jumping from trees to trees?” Yuta’s eyes open in surprise and quickly search for the source of voice up above the tree. Sicheng’s dark eyes glint under the moonlight, piercing through Yuta’s with an intensity the older can’t escape.

“You know?”

“You’re not exactly good at hiding.” if Yuta doesn’t know better, he would say Sicheng is smiling  at him.

“Sorry.” Yuta says, not really feeling guilty. “Do you mind?”

“Not really. Catch.” Sicheng says and Yuta’s hands are outstretched before his brain can comprehend what’s happening. A heavy bag lands on his hands with a muffled thump. “Find some food to eat in there. You’re suck at picking what food to eat and what you’re not supposed to.”

“Why?” Now Yuta asks with suspicion coloring his voice. He’s not going to take random food even if it’s from Sicheng.

“Why do you volunteer to kill any people in 100 metres radius from me?” Sicheng asks instead of responding. “Stop stressing, Nakamoto Yuta, you’re not subtle at hiding your gaze from someone either. Good night.” with that Sicheng turns to his side, leaving Yuta to stare at his back. Yuta almost scoffs at how ridiculous this sounds. His cover is blown even days before they take their first step in the arena.

* * *

 

Nakamoto Yuta never imagines in a million years that his Hunger Games would be as peaceful as this one. Following Sicheng is nice because the boy moves with precision. He is quiet and subtle, he fends for himself, and they somehow don’t encounter as much Tributes as Yuta would have expected. Yuta killed another two on their fourth day and Sicheng buried a dagger deep into someone’s chest on their fifth day, a thin looking girl from Five who was trying to steal their stash of food. Food is a scarce, Yuta realizes after the third day. There’s no animal that they encounter even after the fifth day, nothing to be hunted and cooked. Water source is overflowing, but they can’t exactly live off water and berries only either. He’s a little bit scared with the idea that all the food will be stashed at the Cornucopia and they have to face another bloodbath just to fetch something to eat. The Careers rule the Cornucopia, that much Yuta knows, and five people against two doesn’t stand a chance of a good result.

Sicheng is still fixated on wherever he’s trying to reach even after almost a week and Yuta has started to doubt whether this place is real.

“Sicheng—”

“Winwin.” Sicheng corrects him for the 7th times ever since they have met each other. Yuta doesn’t care.

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“The lake. They have fish on the lake.” Sicheng answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“And how do you know that this Arena will have a lake with fish?”

“Well, this is the Nine’s forrest border, Yuta. They have lake with fishes somewhere, I’ve come to that place too often to ever forget.”

“That doesn’t sound really fair, does it?”

Sicheng chuckles, “Trust me, there’s nothing fair with the whole set up.”

* * *

 

Yuta and Sicheng managed to stick together until 19 other Tributes have died. There is indeed a lake with fish, and also a cave they can use to live comfortably. The temperature is being toyed the longer they are in the arena. No longer did the cool breeze exists, it was substituted with icy nights that rattle their bones and almost shatter their teeth. The day is getting unbearably hotter and humid, even though no rain has ever happened. Yuta hates it. Yuta is tired and he wants to finish this whole thing as quickly as possible instead of being killed by the weather that’s going off-kilter.

“Until when are you g-going to stick with me, N-nakamoto Yuta?” Sicheng had asked the night before, teeth chattering with a force even though he’s already inside the sleeping bag which is designed to reflect body heat. Yuta frowned before deciding to just screw every camera in their vicinity. He nudged Sicheng’s body aside and opened the sleeping bag, quickly slotting his body inside and zipped it close again before any heat can get out, leaving his own sleeping bag empty. “W-what are you doing?”

“Providing the both of us more heat.” Yuta dared to sling his hand around Sicheng’s smaller torso and rubbed some heat into his arms under the cover of the sleeping bag. Yuta could see the way Sicheng’s eyes widen —Yuta could also properly feel how bony Sicheng actually is, with only skin wrapping upon bones it was no surprise that he was feeling the cold too much. “I don’t know, there’s only 5 Tributes left including us, perhaps it is the best for us to separate ways.” Yuta answered Sicheng’s question as if nothing had happened.

It was Yuta's turn to widen his eyes because Sicheng suddenly stopped his rubbing hand and intertwined their hands together.

“Do you want me to leave? Now?” there was an unidentified emotion coloring Yuta’s tone. Sicheng didn’t try to understand it. This was no place for feelings. He just tightened his grip on Yuta’s hands and turned to his side, snuggling deeper to Yuta’s body heat. It was nice.

“No, you can leave in the morning.” Yuta had smiled, even when Sicheng mumbled a quiet question into his chest. Something that Yuta was certain the camera would’t catch, that no one would heard. A simple question that was directed just for the both of them. _Why did you search for me?_

Yuta had wished that Sicheng could understand —that the gaze directed at him was all filled with longing, that he was not good at hiding and that includes feelings, that the things he had been suspicious of are simply real and never once fabricated. Yuta wished Sicheng can see that Yuta’s concern about his well being is never once faked for the cameras to see. Yuta had never thought about his dreams or his life goal for 18 years; he thought it was futile to dream when he would just get reaped and died within the hands of some random kid he never knew, being reduced to a simple pretty thing to bet money on and being asked to kill other random kids for his own survival. No, Yuta had never dared to dream. He was never an idealist after all. However at that moment, all Yuta can think of was how he dreamed of a future. A future that included Sicheng —Yuta didn’t necessarily have to be in the future he dreamt about.

Yuta didn’t answer Sicheng’s question. He simply tightened his wrap upon the slim body, holding the boy of his dream closer even just for one more night. Once, they’d separated, Yuta couldn’t be burdened with regrets anymore.

* * *

 

“Whatever happens, don’t come to the Cornucopia.” Yuta has whispered to the shell of Sicheng’s ear with urgency. He would be there by noon and the last thing Yuta would want Sicheng to see is how he tried to kill the remaining Careers. Yuta slaps his signature big smile on his face when he releases Sicheng from his hug. He doesn’t know whether the camera can capture his teary eyes from that angle, but he hopes they can.

“This is a goodbye from me. Don’t die, Winwinie.” Sicheng’s eyes widen and realization spurs behind them. This one is a show. Yuta never calls him Winwin. Yuta witnesses the way Sicheng’s face broke into a beautiful, shy smile, before he leans forward to place a feather like kiss upon Yuta’s right cheekbone.

Yuta will forever regret the day when his heart introduced him to the word love.

* * *

 

Yuta is stupid —probably the biggest moron on the planet.

Yuta is stupid because he knows how stubborn Sicheng can be.

Of course Sicheng would go to the only place Yuta has asked him not to.

Yuta was in the middle of a fist fight with the boy from Four. He was, for the lack of better term, the disadvantaged.The boy was bigger than him, heavier, and he’s the one with his back in the ground, trying to stop the stone in the boy’s hand to ever make contact with his skull. There was a small open wound on his side, probably trickling red to the green grass. And he knew he probably looked worse for wear, but that didn’t make it a justification for Sicheng to come out in the open from his hiding place, trying to help him in fight. No, Sicheng wasn’t even supposed to be there in the first place.

Yuta loses his grip on reality for a second as he hears Sicheng’s voice in a distant. His head lolls to the side to see the familiar tall figure running to his place. He’s running with a purpose, face completely focused on the boy atop of Yuta.

_No._

Yuta feels the sudden urge to stop Sicheng, to run back to him and get him away from this whole gruesome scene. There’s a kid lying lifeless not even five metres from Yuta, a long knife deeply slotted in her stomach. That’s when Yuta remembers about the small deadly girl with catlike eyes. Another one, another Tribute from Two, another one who he has never even seen until this second. Another one who is probably hiding until now, waiting patiently to lure her prey out of their nest with a bait they can never resist. Yuta —bleeding and wounded Yuta, is the bait. Sicheng is her last prey.

He sees it before any sound can come off his throat. The murderous glint within dark like bead eyes, the smugness in the corner of thin lips, the way the sunlight is reflected in the tip of the silver spear.

_No._

Yuta is on autopilot. His instinct kicks in before his brain can even comprehend what to do in its panic state. He uses the knife in his hand to stab the space between his enemy’s radius and ulna bone, as deep as his restricted wrist is allowed to move. Once free, he doesn’t waste any time to jab another dagger down the boy’s neck, preventing him effectively from swinging the other hand with the stone to Yuta’s body.

He waits.

He waits for a split second, just for the stupid canon to goes off, just to be certain that the boy is dead.

_One._

_Two._

* * *

 

There’s a long spear lodged in the left side of Sicheng’s back. He’s unmoving, body facing the ground, with face probably smushed to the dirt. For the countless of time, Yuta feels like vomiting.

He doesn’t. He kneels on Sicheng side, wide in the open, not even worrying about his partner Tribute that might show up anytime. Yuta wants her to show up. Yuta is ready for her to show up.

His hands tremble badly, but there’s a silver spear he needs to pull off, there's a face he needs to see. Once the spear is thrown far away from them, Yuta gently moves Sicheng to lie on his back. There’s a steady gush of warmth covering his left hand that is on Sicheng’s back, Yuta only pulls Sicheng to his lap, smearing the crimson streams all over his thighs.

There’s dirt on his face —Yuta wipes it away with his clean hand, meticulously, until he was once again a perfect picture-esque. The color is rapidly draining from his skin. Sicheng is so, _so_ pale that Yuta is afraid to even touch him for the fear that he’s going to break like a fine porcelain.

People thinks they would find peace once they’re dead. Yuta thinks they lie. Sicheng looks hollow instead of peaceful. He tries closing the empty eyes that are staring at him —past him, _God,_ he didn’t even get the chance to witness the blue sky for the last time. Yuta wants to cry or sobs or just pass out right then and there.

_This is no place for feelings._

Yuta dares to broke the number one rule with the justification that he doesn’t have anything to fight for anyway, that he doesn’t even have anything to go home to, that he’s ready to risk his heart because he’s ready to end his life as long as his other half finds his way home.

In the end, no one gets what they want.

Yuta left Sicheng with his eyes opened, letting the boy a chance to see how blue the sky is, and how nice the sun is shining for him. Yuta left Sicheng with a long kiss to his forehead, a desperate plea for his heart to reach the other wherever he is right now.

Yuta left Sicheng —dead and alone.

* * *

 

Two days later Yuta is announced a Victor.

The delicate body of a beautiful small girl from Two lies lifelessly by the feet of a heartbroken boy.

* * *

 

Yuta thrusts a small brown notebook to Youngho’s hands once they meet each other. Youngho does not ask anything as Yuta is manhandled to the Capitol’s hospital.

It was filled with all sort of heartbreaking things that Youngho is not even sure Yuta has read. Letters upon letters, a promise to come home, an apology if he never can come home. A heartfelt letters to his family, life advices for a boy named Renjun. A love confession.

Youngho stops reading after that.

* * *

 

“How are you?” Youngho asks after Ten is finished beautifying the new victor in a combination of velvety green and gold. A painful reminder that he stands in that podium for two.

Yuta learns how his subtle tragic love story has been a phenomenon in the Capitol, that people empathize with them. Yuta feels sick.

He smiles tiredly at Youngho, seeing his supposed to be childhood friend turned mentor in a new light. _No one comes out of the arena unscathed._ Youngho understands.

“Breathing.”

* * *

 

Yuta completely breaks down once he reaches Two.

* * *

 

The Tour starts after a month, a long enough time given to make the Victor looks strong and healthy again —beautiful, less jaded. It starts from Twelve and finishes right in the heart of the Capitol. Yuta spends his night screaming over nightmare upon nightmare. No one can help, not even Youngho for he’s just at the same state, if not worse.

He sees him when he reaches Nine. Huang Renjun, a small fierce looking boy that stands in the crowd of mourning people. People that don’t care about Yuta’s love story. People that are mad because one of them is dead for the sake of saving Yuta. Yuta instantly understand why Sicheng wanted to volunteer for a 12 years old Renjun, when he has a whole family to take care of.

Yuta wonders how long will it take for them to warm up to the guy that practically killed their family member.

* * *

 

Youngho gets Yuta the job he wants in the quickest period he has ever witnessed.

A peacekeeper in District 9.

He wonders what Youngho gives in return for the favor.

(Youngho accepts the offer to mentor the Tributes permanently.)

* * *

 

He was put in one of the empty Victor’s Houses in Nine instead of the peacekeeper headquarter. They said to see it as a privilege for winning the Game _—a way to have an eye on him_. Yuta had agreed.

* * *

 

It had taken two years.

Two years for Sicheng’s family to see Yuta as a human being.

Two years for them to believe that he actually was —is in love with Sicheng.

Two years of nightmares and screaming nights for Renjun to warm up to him despite them living under the same roof.

Two years for Yuta to gather the courage to enter the forest barrier that surrounds Nine.

Two years for Yuta to comeback to the lake that Xiaojun says is Sicheng’s getaway. The lake with fish and a hidden cave somewhere near.

That day Yuta broke down inside the cave, feeling chills seeping to his bone but there’s no small figure to snuggle close to his chest nor a calming heartbeat to accompany his sleep. Renjun finds him in the morning, passed out with tear stained face.

* * *

 

Yuta misses Sicheng.

Yuta misses Sicheng terribly. The way the other boy smiled subtly at him, the way his hand was taken into a strong hold just to ground the both of them. Yuta wants to hold Sicheng again, to feel the warmth of his lean body seeping into Yuta. It’s funny how attached he is with the younger when he hasn’t even introduced himself properly to the boy. He wish he had.

Sometimes he wishes for death to end his misery, to take him and bring him together with the only love he ever felt in his short life. He wants to meet Sicheng. He wants to hear the bashful laugh that always rings for much longer that they’re supposed to in Yuta’s ear. He wants to tell him so, _so_ many things —how he had learned to distinguish berries now, how he can probably pass a survival test with flying colors, how he knows what to eat and how he should cook rabbit before eating them. Yuta wants to tell Sicheng how he has a goal in his life now, and that he’s trying so, _so_ hard to live his life well. And that he has been taking care of the people Sicheng has left behind.

Yuta wants to see the sparkle behind Sicheng’s dark eyes again as he tells him this stories. Yuta wants to know whether he has done the right thing by being here. Yuta wishes Sicheng was here to tell him all the things that he wants to hear from the other boy

— _you’ve tried so hard, i’m so proud of you, you’ve done enough, i love you, i forgive you._

Yuta is not that lucky to get his wishes granted.

* * *

 

Yuta releases the rope from his ankle, throws it weakly some metres away from him. He ignores the heavy stone that lays beside him, ready to be dropped into the open lake.

It’s not the first time he tries. It’s the 11th times he fails.

Yuta has Renjun to worry about. He’s not making another mistake he’ll regret for the rest of his life.

* * *

 

Yuta is content.

Yuta is content with how his life has turned.

He’s not happy, per se, but at least he’s sure he can live — _live, not just breathing._

He’s friend with Johnny again. They meet each other quite often, especially whenever Yuta visits the Capitol or Two. Johnny is… better — _much better. Broken, yes, but at the very least he’s okay, even happy sometimes._ Johnny met a new stylist a few months ago, one that is outrageously beautiful both in a normal human way but also in the Capitol way. Yuta thinks the pink haired stylist is a good addition to Johnny’s life.

That’s the dangerous thing about being happy, though. People become unaware of the incoming threats coming their way, making them more prone to the full force of shattering hearts.

Yuta’s heartbreak comes in the way of the loud microphone booming a name that shatters his whole life.

_The male Tribute of District 9 for The 56th Annual of The Hunger Games is Huang Renjun!_

* * *

 

Yuta watched him went down —the prayers didn’t work.

Yuta watched him being pushed by someone Renjun thought he could trust —the gifts and sponsors didn’t work.

Yuta watched him screamed as he flew down the cliff —the effort he had pulled were all ended in vain.

Yuta watched as the red splattered all around the grey stones —he didn’t feel the air getting into his lungs, he felt the unwanted tears streaming down his face as his legs brought him to god knows where, he choked on sobs that won't stop coming.

Yuta watched as another canon that belongs to the people he love went off —the rock is already there, always patiently waiting. Yuta didn’t think twice.

* * *

 

There’s water blocking his airways —it’s painful, too painful.

The cold numbing his limbs, preventing him from ever swimming up.

The pain grips his lungs in a tight chokehold.

His ankle feels heavy, he’s being dragged down the icy water.

He doesn't fight it, though. Perhaps this is a self punishment for not being able to protect the people he loves better. Yuta looks up, the sun is distorted but at least the water is blue. He’s glad he can see the same view he hopes Sicheng was seeing that day. There's no canon to signify his death, no one is there to mourn anyways.

Except Johnny, perhaps.

_Johnny, forgive me._

Yuta sighs his last breath in relief, at least Renjun and Sicheng’s death were quick.

He hopes he can see them again after this.

He hopes Sicheng would forgive him for doing this.

He hopes Renjun would be happy for he won’t hear Yuta screaming murder every night again.

He hopes he can finally say how much he loves the both of them.

He hopes Taeyong would take care of Youngho forever.

He hopes lu—

**Author's Note:**

> okay that was
> 
> 1\. my first full angsty fic  
> 2\. my first time writing yuta  
> 3\. my first time writing winwin  
> 4\. my first time writing yuwin
> 
> im really sorry if it sucks sjdnsjsjsn

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [he never missed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18192332) by [miraculia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraculia/pseuds/miraculia)




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